


Momentum

by Vivian



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux attends a private party, Kylo Amidala disturbs his evening. Hux makes questionable decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentum

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my [darling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelas) who made me feel good about this and was, as always, wise and thoughtful in her comments. (And also made me grin a lot.)  
> I blame all of this on [ocktorok](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ocktorok/pseuds/ocktorok). [cracktheglasses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cormallen/pseuds/cracktheglasses) was more than just an inspiration for this. Be warned, this is pure filth.

It is a private venue. No press. Only guest list. 

In the dimmed light a mélange of selected attendants gather: business tycoons in jewel-clad silks, shareholders of companies, heirs of old families, politicians bribing and taking bribes, side by side with their whores. All the filthy rich. And those such as Hux, high-ranking military men.

Invitations to such events are rare, even for the First Order. They are as much for pleasure as for business, and to be seen here bolsters their position of power. Hux had no other option but to attend. Now he is sipping Corellian whiskey. The dimmed lights are reflected in durasteel and glass, clean-cut lines, sharp as razors, all in royal blue, grey, anthracite, but with the additional pomp of ornamented lamps and oil paintings in excessive gilded frames. The air is full with laughter, murmurs and heavy perfumes. Hux watches the people from his table, situated on a dais along the left side of the room. It has its own roof, and curtains for each section occupied by a table. A phantom privacy. Enough to veil most vices and enough to keep Hux away from lingering touches and gazes. He takes account. Listens carefully. He gathers information that will be useful for another time.

That is, until a tall figure pushes gracelessly through the crowd, parting the crowd in front of the dais. Hux would know that abrasive stride anywhere. He girds himself for the battle, that, no doubt, is about to commence.

Senator Kylo Amidala stands before him.

“General,” Amidala drawls. He ascends the dais and sinks down onto the chair opposite of Hux.

Hux’s lips twitch.

“Senator,” Hux says, voice clipped.

Amidala leans forward, black shantung silk dragging against the dark wood of the table. The gown Amidala wears has a high collar embroidered with dark-green feathers, curving downward. But his shoulders are free, skin pale as marble. The sleeves of his gown circle his biceps, first tightly, then falling widely. As Amidala turns to look behind himself, Hux stares at the expanse of his bared back, birthmark-scattered, flesh framed by lace stitched with nephrite-pearls and more feathers, glinting oily in the twilight. Then Amidala faces Hux once more. His eyes seem almost black. They are wide, drinking in all luminescence. They make Amidala look young. Vulnerable. Disgust shivers through Hux. Amidala must’ve picked that up, _that damned Force sensitivity_ , and stands. For a second Hux hopes Amidala will simply leave. He does not. Instead he pulls the curtains shut.

“I was _watching_ ,” Hux says.

“I’ll give you something better to watch,” Amidala replies.

Hux raises his eyebrows. Amidala slips thumb and index finger under his collar, procuring a necklace. A cross-shaped ruby glimmers on it, its middle set into durasteel. Amidala slides it from his head and removes the lower piece of the cross. It is hollow.

“Are you serious,” Hux says coolly as Amidala dribbles a bit of white powder from the hollow onto the back of his hand, forming it into a messy line.

“Yes,” Amidala says.

Hux lowers his gaze. Amidala bends downward, glances at Hux. Then Amidala snorts the powder. And gasps, mouth falling open, eyes rolling back.

“Heavens,” Hux says, unimpressed. But a shiver runs down his spine, watching Amidala. Those loose lips. Hux swallows.

Amidala’s eyes are so dark. He dribbles some more powder onto the back of his hand. His intent is clear. Hux’s mouth turns downward. Amidala reaches over the table, presenting his hand. Hux looks at it, then at Amidala.

“Well then,” Hux says. He leans down and snorts the powder.

It burns in his nostrils and along the back of his throat. He purses his lips in revulsion.

“What hellish thing is this,” he mutters, pressing his eyes closed for a moment.

Amidala’s laughter is close. Warm breath against Hux’s cheek. Heat uncoils in Hux’s stomach, spreads along Hux’s veins, his skin, tingling and _electric_.

He feels his senses heightening. Voices become louder and clearer, colours pulse and quickly claim his sharpening attentions. He turns his head to Amidala who now crouches by Hux’s knee. A warm, big hand lies on Hux’s thigh.

“Oh,” Hux says.

“Mhm,” Amidala makes.

Suddenly, Hux feels like laughing. This is ridiculous. He glances at the shut curtains. Anyone who has seen Amidala sit down with him might guess what is happening. But it is too late now. The deed is done, suspicions might already spread. Of political favours or drugs or—

Amidala grabs Hux’s cock through his uniform trousers. Hux swallows and narrows his eyes. Amidala looks up at him. The white paint on his skin is cracked along his forehead, the red lipstick he wears in Padmé Amidala’s honour is smudged around the edges.

“What a dirty thing you are,” Hux says.

Amidala’s lower lip quivers, just so, as if he wanted to speak. He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs Hux’s cock more firmly, moving his hand slowly up and down. Hux feels himself getting hard. Amidala moans quietly. Hux raises his eyebrows, scoffing, and takes another sip of his whiskey. With two fingers he tilts up Amidala’s chin.

“Open your mouth.”

Amidala obeys. Hux pours the whiskey, some of it trickling over Amidala’s lips, his chin and into his collar. Hux puts down the glass. He seizes Amidala’s hair, pulls his head back sharply. Carefully, he licks the whiskey from Amidala’s throat up his chin, but stops before his mouth.

“Get up.”

Amidala does. A feverish sheen lies over his dark eyes.

“Sit on the table.”

Amidala slides onto the table, leaning back and bracing himself onto his hands.

Hux stands. Slowly he runs his fingers over Amidala’s thighs, before he opens the folds of his robe and pushes them up. Silk crinkles against his touch. He hooks his fingers over Amidala’s underwear and tugs downward. Amidala arches his back, lifting his ass up from the table long enough for Hux to pull off his underwear. Hux slides it from Amidala’s legs and balls it in his right hand. With his left, he parts Amidala’s thighs, settles between them.

“Open your mouth, senator.”

Amidala swallows thickly and opens his mouth. Hux pushes the underwear between his lips, gagging Amidala with it. For a moment, Hux simply looks. He circles around his chair, draws it back a little and sits. His gaze lingers where Amidala’s thick cock curves against the pushed-up silk of his gown. His dick is flushed red, precome gleaming at its tip. Filthy. Disgusting. To bare and to display himself like this. Here, where anyone who might open the curtains could see.

“Whore,” Hux murmurs and traces Amidala’s cock-length with a single finger.

Amidala shudders. Heat twines along Hux’s veins. He’s aware of many things. The music, woven into the air, loud enough to blend all chatter into noise. Amidala’s perfume. Sweeter than he’d imagined. A hint of apples, cedar wood and magnolia. The shift of Amidala’s thighs. How heavy his own cock is, straining against his trousers.

Hux bends forward. He breathes against Amidala’s cock before he takes it in hand, fingers tight around its base.

“Are you not ashamed?” Hux asks, voice cold.

Amidala grunts and moans against the gag in his mouth.

“You come here wanting to be fucked,” Hux states, “in public.”

He shakes his head, feeling Amidala’s cock twitch.

“Pathetic.”

Hux presses his lips gently against the head of Amidala’s dick. He hears Amidala breathe out harshly through his nose. Slowly, Hux slides his tongue against the underside of the cockhead, presses there before he sucks it into his mouth. Precome on his tongue. He swallows it down, shivering at the bitter taste. For a while Hux just toys with Amidala like this, sucking and mouthing at Amidala’s cockhead, letting it slip from his lips, before taking it back into his mouth. He does this until Amidala’s thighs tremble, until Amidala reaches for Hux and a big hand lands on the back of Hux’s head. Hux allows it. Amidala pushes him down onto his cock until it bumps against the back of Hux’s throat and he has to force himself not to gag around it. Then he pulls off. Slaps Amidala’s hand away.

Amidala claws the underwear from his mouth.

“Please,” Amidala begs, voice hoarse, desperate.

“I think not.”

Amidala slides off the desk and into Hux’s lap. They nearly topple over. Hux’s heart leaps in his chest. He moves forward to counter Amidala’s momentum, gripping Amidala’s hip.

“I’ll do anything,” Amidala rasps into Hux’s ear, “if you suck my dick again.”

“Get a _grip_ , senator,” Hux snaps.  

Amidala drags his lips over Hux’s ear to his jaw bone. A shiver runs down Hux’s spine. The candied smear of Amidala’s lipstick on his skin. Then Amidala shifts upon him, fumbles between them and slips his fingers into Hux’s trousers.

“Like this?”

It’d be ridiculous, if Hux’s cock did not harden in Amidala’s grip. Hux feels hypersensitive, skin on fire where Amidala touches him. He breathes out through his nose.

“Take your hands off me,” Hux grits.

Amidala tightens his grip. Hux bites his tongue as not to moan. More fumbling, Amidala pulling Hux’s cock out of his trousers, aligning it with his own. Hux’s head tips back and he sucks in a shivering breath. Amidala’s palm is warm, messy in the way that it moves up and down on their dicks.

“I said take your _hands_ off me,” Hux whispers.

Amidala bends to him, that soft mouth upon Hux’s, a staining kiss. Amidala’s tongue presses between Hux’s lips. Hux pushes his own against it, sliding into Amidala’s mouth. Lips close around his tongue, just a hint of teeth. Without thought, Hux bucks his hips upward into Amidala’s touch. Heat surges through him, sharp, _branding_. He turns his face, breaking the kiss. He grabs Amidala’s wrist, pulling his hand away from their cocks.

“Get off me,” he says coolly.

Amidala freezes above him. Gracelessly he gets back to his feet. He smoothes his gown where the silk has crumpled. He stands tall, this beast of a man, but bent and brittle. Hux still sits. The noise from outside rushes by, he wonders how much time has passed, how many had seen Amidala come in. Hux touches his lips with his fingertips. When he draws back, the leather of his gloves is stained red. Amidala’s lipstick.

He’s aware of what has just happened, _knows_ it in his mind, knows the possible consequences, yet the reality of it eludes him. A moment ago he’d sucked Amidala’s dick. He would have finished him off, too, if Amidala hadn’t interfered.

A sudden swath of dissatisfaction cuts through him. His lips twitch. He assesses Amidala. Then he gets up, picks up his drink from the table and takes a sip.

Amidala’s gaze follows his motion. Still, he says nothing. Taking Amidala home is not an option. Going to Amidala’s place? No. If it is to happen, it is to happen here.

He makes a decision.

Hux puts down his drink and gets on his knees.

“You will not touch me. You will only come when I allow you.”

“Yes,” Amidala says, voice over enunciated.

“Come closer then.”

Amidala scrambles forward. His big hands make quick to pull up his robe once more.

Hux looks at him, how he blushes even through the white paint, how he bites his mouth, how his hands tremble and the muscles in his thighs flex and tauten. And how his dick hardens the instant Hux reaches for it.

“No-one will interrupt us,” Amidala presses suddenly.

Hux wants to ask how Amidala would know such a thing—but of course. The Force. He replies nothing. Instead, he encircles the base of Amidala’s dick with his right, while his left strokes downward, weighing Amidala’s balls and rolling them in his hands. With his index and middle finger he reaches further. He traces them over Amidala’s hole, lightly.  The thought to be inside Amidala crashes over him. For a heartbeat it takes away his breath. To feel that tight heat, to press Amidala down, force him on hands and knees, to take him roughly, fuck into him harshly. Amidala moans and his dick twitches in Hux’s other hand. Hux retreats his fingers from Amidala’s hole.

This time, when he takes Amidala’s cock into his mouth it is sans the playfulness he’d toyed with before. This time, it is quick and efficient. When he swallows Amidala down, Amidala shudders. Hux concentrates on repressing his gag reflex, counts in his head and by four slides back up. He repeats the motion while his right hand keeps a firm grip on the base of Amidala’s cock, and his left digs into Amidala’s hip bone, bruising.

Amidala curses under his breath. Hux feels Amidala’s cock twitch in his mouth.

“God, fuck, _fuck_ , Hux…”

Heat tingles in Hux’s fingers, he feels slightly dizzy, from lack of air and Amidala trembling underneath his ministrations. The sudden want to take Amidala home floods through him. To strip him bare, to have him only in his pearls and paint, have him begging, debauched, _crying_. He’d put him over his knee first, strike his ass until it bloomed pink, take him apart bit by bit. He’d fuck him with his fingers, until he’d sob and plead for Hux’s cock. Hux’d make him come and then fuck Amidala, oversensitive, until Amidala would be hard once again.

Above him, Amidala moans. Hux looks up. Amidala’s eyes are feverish, and in the dim light of the lamps, blacker than night. Amidala’s biting his lip. A drop of blood trickles over his chin as his teeth cut into his skin. Hux pulls off, and sharply commands, “Come.”

He wraps his lips around Amidala's cock again.

Then Hux watches Amidala’s eyes roll back into his skull, mouth falling open, and he comes, spurting. The bitter taste of come sweeps onto Hux’s tongue. With one quick movement, Hux stands. He spits Amidala’s come to the floor.

Amidala’s eyes flutter open when Hux presses a palm against his chest, turning Amidala around and bending him over the table. Hux gathers Amidala’s skirts with his left, crimps them over Amidala’s back. With his right he frees his own cock from his trousers. It takes only a few quick, efficient pulls before he’s coming, quietly, over Amidala’s ass in thick white stripes.

Amidala whimpers. Hux’s seed slicks Amidala’s ass, slips down his thighs.

“Revolting,” Hux says.

Amidala turns his head to look at Hux over his shoulder.

Hux procures a handkerchief from his pocket, wipes away Amidala's lipstick stains on his mouth and cheek, cleans his cock and tucks it back in. Then he throws the soiled handkerchief at Amidala’s back.

“Clean yourself up, senator,” Hux says.

Amidala’s hair is ruffled, his makeup smudged, silk crumpled and stained. Amidala braces himself onto his elbow and Hux watches as Amidala gathers up most of Hux’s come with the handkerchief. Then he presses it to his lips. A shiver of repulsion goes through Hux.

“I will leave first,” Hux says.

Amidala smoothes his robe down, and he looks more than a beast than he ever has, with his red-smeared lips. Hux remembers the drop of blood. He advances and presses his gloved thumb onto Amidala’s lips. They part and Amidala sucks in his finger. Suddenly hands are on Hux, pulling him close.

“Senator…” he says.

Amidala lets Hux’s thumb slip from his lips. Hux’s hand slides lower, thumb dragging over Amidala’s skewed, slim chin, then to his Adam’s apple. Hux presses. Amidala’s eyes darken. He bares his teeth. Animalistic, Hux thinks. Hux presses harder, cutting off Amidala’s air supply for a few counted seconds.

Amidala’s hands are still on Hux, long fingers digging into his upper arms.

They stare at each other. Hux feels, what must be the Force, twining around them, like spikes of electricity running up his skin, and they whisper. Promises. Pleas.

The white-hot rush of power bolts through Hux.

“Let go of me,” he demands.

Amidala complies, if hesitantly.

Hux steps back.

“Good night, senator,” he says.

Amidala stares at him, disbelief widening his eyes. Elation thrumms in Hux’s veins.

“You… won’t take me home,” Amidala says. It’s not a question.  

Hux answers anyway. “No,” he says and turns. He opens the curtains, and without looking back adds, “Not tonight.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you liked this sin. Talk to me on my kylux [tumblr](http://kyluxxury.tumblr.com).


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